| Log Title |
| Summary: | Log Summary |
| Date: | 10/April/2011 |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
| Alaculus, Staff Run NPC (Masters) |
| Cockpit - Prowler - 1 |
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The cockpit of the TIE Avenger looks physically similar to its predecessors, however within its geodesic dome; the aging cockpit electronics have been updated and modernized. Most prominent is a Heads Up Display (HUD) integrated with the navigation, fire control and flight computers. Three multi-function displays take up space around the flight controls offering the pilot the ability to customize the information they have access to through a touch screen interface. An upgraded TIE flight stick and throttle on the left side provide the primary means of control, accompanied by a pair of foot pedals all situated before the hexagonal forward view port.
| During the Ground Battle on Chandrila |
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Air support in atmo is not exactly what TIE fighters were designed for, but they lend themself well enough to the task. Alac checks his display as his flight of Prowler's forms up out two to each side of his point in the inverted V, "Harbinger one, this is Prowler flight Zeta lead." Switching to a command channel on his comsys he visually checks out the front panels of his fighter, "We got you on scanners, moving to sector seven zero alpha. On your mark."
The Harbinger's veer down, towards Chandrila's Atmosphere, the sleek fighter Squadron rolling out in pairs to flank them as they desend.
On a seperate vector Slate flight enters the atmosphere; they were returning to the fight after a small withdraw so that they could open up the way for the transports that would be coming. Lt Masters is leading the flight today as he calls up the formation, "Slate flight, lead. I have a formation contact bearing two niner four. Thrusters to full and prepare for atmospheric combat. I have lead, call your targets." He pushes his throttle up, moving in as fast as he can but still they are a way off. There's time that they could pull up and counter-attack still.
Inside the TIE the scanners blink indicating contacts baring up on them from atmosphere, "Prowler flight, contacts on sensors." All calm in his tone, dispite the hours of fighting he has already engaged in over the course of the Space theatre, "Preprae for atmospheric combat. Harbinger Flight, lead, we will engage. Punch through to intended target zone." Pushing in the throttle, the TIE's break off from their escort, reforming into the inverted V formation behind Alac's lead fighter. "Prowlers, paint targets on my lead."
The flight, accompanied by that iconic whirling hiss as they break forward, move in towards Slate Flight in unison.
Masters continues the lead attack profile and says to his flight, "Slate flight, lead. Looks like they've spotted us. Keep the power in and call out the targets as you see them. I want updates as we go, don't get careless." He takes a look over his readouts one more time to make sure everything was good to go; his craft was armed and ready for the combat and the gap closes between them faster than possible. There was much to be anticipated, but he relaxes and lets his training take over as they rush into the fight.
Prowler One whirls in through atmo towards the incoming contacts, flying straight and true as they close within firing range. "Mark." Pulling down the firing controls on his stick, a linked set of green leaps out of the mounted batteries situated around the cockpit, the Prowlers follow suit and begin to peel out away from the formation in groups of two, leaving Alac to take the lead out alone ahead of them.
Masters moves out of the way of the incoming fire with a twitch of the flight stick, the x-wing better able to cope with the incoming attack. Flying his formation down he continues to to maneuver, keeping the lead fighter in his sights. "This is lead, weapons free." Pulling on his trigger he lets loose a volley of fire, his wingmen spreading out to help cover their leader and avoid being hit themselves.
Alac pulls hard on the stick and rolls the TIE over on it's axis, pushing into the starboard thrust pedal to pitch it up onto it's side as the added inertia of atmosphere slows the ackwardly modeled Imperial fighter in it's rolling dodge, "Prowler lead, paint and fire. Keep them off the Harbingers." Throwing the himself into the a short looping roll, he sets loose on his fire control as the two fighters whirl in for another pass on the Lead X-wing.
Missing narrowly Masters keeps the pressure up on the leader of the other formation, flying in close as the other breaks to the right. Following he sees the movement of the loop but can't quite get out of the way in time, the other fighters blocking a successful defense path and he's hit, but the shields take the fire and continue to hold. "This is lead, keep the pressure up. This guy is good." Snapping back in the opposite direction he hauls on the stick and opens up with another volley.
Alac pulls out wide out of the pass to come around in a wider loop, attempting to get in behind the X-wing, but the fighter tugs a bit with the shift in spacial to Atmospheric flight and he undercompensates with a pressing of the thruster pedal. Alarms errupt inside the cockpit, but even under fire, the Imperial keeps his cool, checking the HUD inside the visor of his helmet, he moves a hand off from the stick to quickly adjust power levels from the hyperdrive into flight control. Limiting the chance for internal fire to errupt within the fighter. "Prowler Lead, hit. Still in flight. Run screen on his wingmate and drop him back off me." Chilly levels of control in his tone as he yanks on the yolk and stnads into the right thruster pedal, whipping the TIE around while depressing the fire controls, smoke leaves a small trail out behind his hyperdrive.
Keeping the pressure up Masters sees the hit and calls it in "This is lead, I've hit their leader. Keep your attacks up!" There's a bit of chatter in the background as one of the wingmen gets into trouble, the other fighters having to bail him out if they can, but it looks like they'll be exiting the combat before long. Gritting his teeth Masters isn't going to stop here as he moves to yank his ship hard over and up against this other fighter. He snap rolls when the TIE turns, attempting to get another bead on him as he pulls the trigger once more. "Take that you imperial scum…"
In the comsys the Prowlers are calling targets, but there's an icy sort of calm to their systems. All of them like their Leader, devoid, uniform, priority over punctuation, "Prowlers, keep on the Rebels…" Cutting off as he grinds his teeth with a push forward on his control stick, diving beneath the incoming tracks of red that light the exterior of his shield wall in a halo of blue glow, "…I am on their lead, seperating him from the main engagement. When clear, fall back in on Harbingers and escort them to target zone." Smooth as Kuati silk, Alac pulls back on his stick and pushes down into both pedals to bring him into a tight loop, releasing his rightmost at the appex to whirl him over to port, flicking down the fire control indicator as he dives back down towards the fast moving X-wing.
If only they knew that they were fighting ex-imperials… Masters thinks that their lack of this knowledge was playing into their favor at the moment. As he continues to twist and turn Masters gets hit from an unexpected angle, the panel before him reading the hit and the light for one of his torpedo launchers starts to blink yellow. Inoperateive… outside his ship the launcher is surging with a power spike and the system goes offline. Kicking his fighter over from the attack below him he turns hard and cuts in close to his attacker and opens up with a new round of fire.
As the X-wing swings up and sends a volley upwards towards, the shields flicker all along the exterior of the TIE, but Alac moves his hand out towards the controls and quickly recalibrates them to spread what power remains. "He is good." Finally admitting it, at least out loud, he pushes into the pedal and yanks the fighter back away from the writhing ball in a wide arcing loop to come back at the Republic fighter from starboard. With indicator lights going off all along the readout panels, Alac pushes the fighter in closer and depresses the fire controls on his linked weapons. Though he has not put it together, the Imperial is starting to notice similarities between in their tactics and those used by their republic counterparts. Not enough so, yet, not in the heart of a dogfight.
Masters knew he was fighting one of the Empire's better pilots, most flight leads were the best of that group. The chatter of the other fighters goes past him for now as he moves as best he can to avoid colliding with his attacker, but the last move was one step in the wrong direction. His ship gets hit but the shields are able to hold. It rattles him but it also pushes him along farther. He knew this fight was quickly coming to an end, the only thing was left to be decided was who was going to be flying still. Keeping his craft in a tight loop he snaps out of it and flips over the top to reverse direction and get a good lead on the other fighter, depressing the trigger again as he starts to sweat.
A bead of sweat is rolling almost continuously down the center of Alac's brow, dripping from the point of his nose as he continues to manuever around the Republic's flight leader. Grinding his teeth, he yanks hard on his stick and pitches over on his side into an outward roll, pushing both feet down into the pedals with a whining hiss of acceleration as the two fighters slide along in their arial dance. Releasing the left pedal, the stick is pulled in the opposite direction, over compensating, for the turn to pitch the rear of the ship around and bring him back to bare weapons forward on the X-wing. There's a little give in his stick from the abuse, but thus far his TIE seems to be holding steady, no further indicator lights now that the Hyperdrive has been drained of power and the shield well is recalibrated. The chatter of his squadron is heard, but they are well trained, keeping the Republic's fighters occupied as the leads duke it out.
Masters was good, but this was getting to his breaking point. It was a mono e mono fight and he was starting to feel the strain of the continued battle. Sitting on the precipice of death he kicks his fighter hard over when shot at this time, missing the oncoming fire as he sets up a new attack profile Pulling hard and up from under his attacker the sweat bead slips down his face as he grits his teeth, his grip on the flight stick hard and causes his hand pain, but he ignores it in favor of sighting the best shot he possibly can get.
Both Flight Leads were locked in a tight coil of writhing fighters, both beginning to feel that muscular strain from constant motion. Alac's grip on the flight stick was enough to send slivers of pain up his arm, but like his Republic counterpart, it played little into his overall ability to manuever the TIE. Teeth grinding hard as a quad streak of red laces past the port sensor panel, the craft cants over into a barrel roll when he literally stands up onto the pedal and jerks the yolk hard in that direction. The move was flawed, imperfect, and noted for later use, as he reverses his barings with a glance up towards the corner sensor screen of the HUD spread out in the visor of his helmet. Pushing power into the thrusters, he pulls back and tight to towards his left leg, swinging the fighter around in a looping roll, finger already hovering over the linked controls. "Prowler's this is lead, prepare to disengage on confirmation from Harbingers." While the voice is still calm, it's strained. Threads of exerstion working it's way into even his tone.
Masters wasn't giving up no matter what else was going on here. The longer he had this guy engaged the longer it allowed others to do what they needed to do. He keeps pressing his fighter faster and farther, but still he's not quite there. Swinging his craft out of the way he gets a bit of distance between them - it allows him to dodge easier but it doesn't allow him to attack right away. Releasing his grip for a moment heh lets his training take back over and spins back into the other fighter, letting loose with laser fire.
Alac's focus is there, his discipline sharp and intent, but his body is starting to ache. It is the natural conclusion of such a long constant engagement. Sweat threatens to spill over into his eyes, but he blinks it away in rapid motions, and that proves to be a very big problem for the TIE pilot. While he does still jerk the yolk over, teeth grinding as he sees the red blaster light cutting across the sky at him, it is a hair to slow and a breath to shallow. The weakened shields give way under the direct hit and the blinking light of his hyperdrive goes red. Crytical failure. Shaking his head briskly, he pushes forward on the stick and dives down out of the oncoming attack and shifts thrust with a depression of the right pedal, puling him wide and out of the line of fire. The X-wing had an advantage at a distance, it was in the design. Pulling back on his controls, he pushes full thrust into a diagnal push to close with the Republic fighter, pulling at the fire controls as his own craft barks forward with only a little protest.
Masters got lucky; very lucky. He was surprised that shot even hit the other fighter and he knew his luck at this would be short lived. This wasn't a TIE fighter, Masters was trying to fly it like one and it wasn't working. As he moves quickly he puts a bit of range between them and uses the atmosphere as a way to slow the other pilot down. Taking another breather he makes a turn, but not extremely quick as he takes that time to close the gap between the two fighters. Opening up with another volley his hands start to shake a bit under the stress; it was quickly coming to an end and it could be either one of them under chute.
Alac was feeling the strain, both in his legs from working the pedals, as well as his arms. His grip on the control yolk was tight enough that his knuckles were icy beneath the black gloves of his flight suit, but his focus was intent.. and purpose all consuming. While he was not a heartless man, hew as a driven one. Familiar with his craft, he doesn't try to push through the atmospheric push, but uses the break to flex his fingers working some of the cramp from them, then pushes forward in the X-wing whips back towards him in a joist. There's a quick series of jerks from left to right, shimmying his solar panel up, but not peeling back away until after he's fired off a linked series of green towards his oppenent. As close to a salute as two pilots can make, to fire face on, before pushing hard forward to dive down beneath the incoming X-wing.
Taking a deep breath as his body starts to really feel the strain and exert itself he starts to feel like he was running a marathon while sprinting. Masters was hot on this guy's trail but he still couldn't seem to finish the deal as he continues to snap and yack on the stick, the craft starting to feel a bit sluggish in his hands. He sees the other give him the respect of a warrior and he returns the salute, dodging the laser fire and coming back around for another pass. The other knew his craft well and there was no mistaking it - Masters was impressed. He almost didn't want to fire, but this was war. Triggering another salve he watches the bolts streak from his craft.
Alac's arms were loose and rubbery, but he still had discipline and training, was not going to let this end because he lacked in either. Where his body gives way, his mind, though starting to feel the tug of constant manuevering with the other skilled pilot, was still very focused. As the bolts fly in, he cuts back power to his thrusters and rolls off to the right, barreling the bulky panels over themself as he cuts sharp, throws power back into his engines to come in behind the Republic counterpart. While he did respect the pilot, he did not have any of those moral objections, no stalling over the trigger. This was war and Alac, is definately, Imperial. As the other craft comes forward into his sights, he pulls on the fire controls lacing out green bolts with a grinding of his teeth as the whole fighter shudders around him when rockets through Atmos after the X-wing.
Masters is really feeling the strain and his shots go wide. He's really starting to think this is going to have to end soon, perhaps they would call it a draw as neither of them would be able to continue to fight. He continues to manuever, getting a bit more distance as the two fighters do their slow motion dance in the atmoshpere. The sweat is realy building and his breathing is far more rapid as he brings his ship around, his hands shaking from the intensity. There was only one way to do this and he opens up with laser fire, holding the tirgger down.
Alac was feeling it. All through his body, his muscles protesting the constant toil of keeping the fighter snapped over in the barreling rolls, which is made all the more difficult due to it being atmospheric combat. There was a certain weightlessness, ease of motion, in Space, but this was altogether different. The bulk of his helmet was weighing heavily on his neck as he continues to ply through manuevers to stay out of the targetting sensors of the x-wing, which had fallen in behind him. The the read outs infront of him shout at him, the red bleep on his HUD, he glances back over his shoulder to get a visual confirmation then dives pushes hard to port, rolling out as the eight trails of energy burn through Ozone where his fighter was, juking immediately back in the opposite direction, as the pedal release slows his right thruster enough to swing him around and out away from his counterpart. Looping in tight, arm trembling, lips pressed tight together, he holds firm to the firing controls, following the others pilots example and excelation.
Calling out now on the open channel Masters says to him, "We can keep at it, but I think between you and me it's a draw." This time he keeps his fighter moving, pushing it as fast as he can go but still there is that drain upon him that he cannot make go away. His own ship is suffering under the strain as the fight goes on and he knows that this isn't going to end well shortly. A quick check shows him that the rest of his squadron has long since moved on; their fight was over whatever that result was. Pulling his craft up and twisting to roll over on his belly he sights in the other fighter, but this time doesn't fire as he waits for a reply.
Alac's finger hovers over the lock on his fighters fire control as he hears that voice, knowing it has to be the other pilot, he does not respond. Continues to dance his fighter around in a looping whip crack to bare down on the X-wing, coming in fast as he pushes both pedals forward to bark the TIE into a break neck dive at his oppenent.. Then he flips open the open comm channel, "Republic pilot, this is Imperial Prowler Lead.. Reporting weapons malfunction and accept cease fire. Copy." The finger slides down off the trigger, keeping his fighter moving out, then tucks and turns towards his right away from his counterpart. "Impressive flying. Prowler Lead, out."
Masters was good, but he knew when to call it too. This guy was just as good as he was and he calls up, "This is Republic lead, Slate 1. I am powering down and exiting the area on vector three seven four. Until we meet again." Turning his craft in a snap roll to one side he rocks his wings and powers away from the fight, leaving the other fighter to head on his way. He was very impressed with the other man, and now he could truly take a moment to gather his wits again and relax, joining to fight again.
